


Hallelujah

by notjustmom



Series: What if... [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: yet another loss...RIP Mr. Cohen





	1. Chapter 1

"John?"

"Mrs. Hudson. Where is he?"

"Why should I tell you?" Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms, most effectively blocking him from moving past her.

"Martha, let him in." His voice rumbled softly from her couch.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Touch him again and I'll - she nodded at the heaviest cast iron skillet in her arsenal. "Five minutes. I have dusting to see to -"

"Leave it be? How 'bout some tea? I'll be up presently -"

"Just the once- 'not your -"

" 'housekeeper' I remember." Sherlock grimaced as he tried to stand.

"Don't love - I'll get you a nice cuppa. You still don't take yours, hmmm?"

"No, no tea." Mrs. Hudson nodded briskly and left them to it.

John gasped as he got a glimpse of Sherlock, white shirt unbuttoned, hanging open, revealing tightly wrapped ribs, deep, partially healed gashes on his shoulders that Mrs. Hudson had been seeing to when he had interrupted.

"Please? Allow me?" He indicated the first aid kit, sitting on on the coffee table. Sherlock shrugged, instantly regretting the motion. John sighed as he saw the slightest twinge of fear in his friend's changed eyes and shook his head. "I won't hurt you again, I swear. Please?"

Sherlock nodded.

John took off his coat and went to wash his hands.

"Where is she?"

"Home, I think. I told her to go home, anyway."

"She doesn't listen any better than I did."

"No, no she doesn't. You two are quite similar actually -"

"Ah, yes, saw it right off, apart from the gender, height, weight, hair colour, though to be fair, mine is quite natural while hers is off the shelf - L'Oreal - Platinum 10D- ow!"

"Sorry." John smirked a bit. He removed Sherlock's shirt before his friend could stop him and he froze. "Sher-"

"John. Damn. Go. Please? I didn't intend - I just - I don't know - I wanted to see if you were - please?"

"No. No, I'm not going."

"Of course you are. If not tonight, tomorrow morning."

"I told her to go home, and I'd be there in a bit. She looked at me and shook her head. 'No, you won't be back. I'll send over your things, they still aren't unpacked, you never were there really, were you?' She kissed my forehead and got in the cab. How old are these?"

"Which? Most recent, last week - Serbia. There are some older ones - those, hmm, still nervy - Argentina, I believe."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Never."

"Sherlock."

"It isn't your concern."

"Not my concern. Fuck." He stood up and paced. "Not my concern."

"Why are you here?" Sherlock whispered. 

"Why. Am. I. Here?" John laughed.

Sherlock looked at his friend and stared.

"You know I loathe repeating myself. You made it quite clear -"

"I was surprised - a text? You couldn't just send me a bloody text? Or a note? Bit of warning?"

"Oh. Righhht. 'John. Sorry. Not dead. Thai or Italian. You pick.'"

John turned and stared for a moment before moving to kneel in front of his friend. "I have missed you. I am here, because I, don't want to spend another minute apart from you."

"Why?" Sherlock closed his eyes and waited.

"Because I love you. Always have."

"I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"Can I help you upstairs?"

"Please. I -"

John pressed his lips against Sherlock's then shook his head.

"I know, love, I know."


	2. Chapter 2

John wrapped his arm carefully around Sherlock's shoulder, sighing as he felt his friend's slight weight lean into him, and more or less moved him up the "fourteen - fifteen - sixteen - sevent - unghh" steps. John stopped at the open door, as they took a deep, shattered breath together.

"You're home, Sherlock, you're finally home." Sherlock managed a slight whimper and did not struggle as John lifted him into his arms. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, I have no excuse."

"You had all the right in the world. I - didn't, I shouldn't have made a joke out of it, but, uhm, the uh - really?" He raised a finger and smoothed out the mess above John's upper lip.

"It's gone in the morning. Promise." He kissed Sherlock's finger and hummed as he felt him shiver slightly in his arms.

"Are you cold?" He whispered.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, John, not cold."

Mrs. Hudson appeared at the doorway, nodding her approval. "I freshened his old room, assumed you'd only be needing the one?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." John murmured.

She kissed them both and disappeared down the stairs.

"Do you want a bath or -"

"No, I only want -" Sherlock drew in a sharp breath as John's arms shifted a bit tighter around him.

"Sorry - we'll take it slow, yeah?" John kissed his forehead, and carried Sherlock to their bedroom.

"Not too slow?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John laid him gingerly on the bed. John removed Sherlock's shoes and socks, biting his lip as he felt more evidence of how Sherlock had spent his time away.

"I -"

"Please, John?"

"Yeah, sorry. May I, or do you -"

Sherlock's eyes met his own and no words were needed. He undid the new ill-fitting trousers and slid them off, leaving the detective in his pants and open shirt. John saw what he should've seen at the restaurant, if he had looked beyond the smirk. Vulnerable, exhausted hands reached out for him, and John quickly undressed before carefully crawling into bed next to his best friend, who was fighting sleep, but losing.

John gathered Sherlock into his arms and wondered how he had ever lived without the weight of Sherlock's body against his.

"Home, love, we're both finally home. Sleep now, I'm not going anywhere." He felt Sherlock press his lips gently to his chest, just over his heart, and John knew he would never leave Baker Street again.


	3. Chapter 3

John blinked awake to see Sherlock gazing at him; he started to reach for him, but stopped and shook his head.

"You're here. I wasn't sure you would still be here if I fell asleep. You are real, aren't you? I'm not dreaming of you, again, am I?"

Sherlock took John's hand and pressed it to his mouth. "You dreamed of me?"

John nodded. "All the time; so real, and I'd wake up -"

"and you'd be gone. I stopped sleeping. It was unbearable." Sherlock placed John's hand over his heart. "I'm quite real, and every inch belongs to you, if you'll have me."

"Sherlock -" John pulled his friend carefully into his arms, then let his fingers settle into the dark curls. "Is this okay? I'm not hurting you?"

"No, John. This is - mmmm - perfect."

John had so much he wanted to say to the man who snuggled tightly against him; so many questions, but he knew the answers wouldn't change anything, so he just held on to Sherlock, stroking his hair until he felt his friend fall asleep again in his arms. "God - I love you, so much. So much, it hurts to breathe." He fought against the exhaustion, but eventually, sleep overtook him as well.

Hours later, Mrs. Hudson peeked in on them, worried about the silence; she sighed and shook her head. "My boys. Finally home."

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.metaspoon.com/pentatonix-hallelujah?cat=thearts


End file.
